


Heroes Wearing Masks are Also People (The Superhero Dilemma Revisited)

by Pitry



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitry/pseuds/Pitry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can take the bat out of Gotham, but you can't take Gotham out of the bat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes Wearing Masks are Also People (The Superhero Dilemma Revisited)

**Author's Note:**

> Spelunking jokes are shamelessly stolen from Batman Begins.

Outside, it’s the end of the world. Explosions, weapons from another planet, fire, devastation, death. 

Inside, the bars hold, keeping their prisoner in. 

The problem, as Director Nick Fury points out, is that he sits there, completely calm. It’s as if he doesn’t consider the world outside to be his own. Maybe it’s for the better, Fury says. Maybe they’re safer with only one rage monster out there.

***

There was very little in the world that S.H.I.E.L.D employees feared more than Director Fury’s rage. Director Fury’s sarcasm was universally accepted to be one of those things. And today, everyone received their fair share of it.

Some more than others.

It all started with the earthquake. “It’s pretty obvious, actually,” Tony said in his best bored voice as he played absently with the broken cowl on the table. “You take an atom bomb and blow it up over a tectonically unstable area like Gotham, there’s going to be earthquakes.” 

Bruce Banner coughed. “I think the point was that no one could have guessed just how destructive it would be,” he clarified Director Fury’s words. 

“Well, yes. That was...” Tony looked at the cowl for a moment. “Unexpected.”

“Unexpected,” Bruce repeated. “You could say that.”

The big Gotham earthquake, the one that had been dreaded since the explosion two years previously, had destroyed two of the city’s most iconic landmarks: its oldest landmark and its newest had both fallen into rubble.

The newly-erected statue of Gotham’s saviour, its Dark Knight, smashed unceremoniously into a thousand pieces, crashing to death one man and injuring ten more - mostly as a result of the rush to get out of City Hall. The argument went on for hours; the mayor wanted answers, the designer of the statue insisted there was nothing unsafe about the design, the workers who had cast the statue insisted that they had done everything according to the instructions. In the end they reached the compromise: with the state of the city at the time, so soon after the end of Bane’s occupation, no one could be blamed for one shoddy work.

It took several more hours for the arguing officials to hear that the city’s oldest landmark, Wayne Manor, had also collapsed in the earthquake. Teams of firemen and medics, alongside countless volunteers, came to rescue the children and clear the rubble.

Three days later, they found the caves under the southeast wing. The news had reached S.H.I.E.L.D almost immediately, and had left Nick Fury _most_ displeased. 

Tony Stark was asked in very sharp tones how could he have failed to recognise the design of the Tumbler, seeing as Stark Industries had lost that particular contract to Wayne Enterprises in a very close bidding war. 

Natasha was genuinely amused at the way he stumbled and fumbled for an answer - after all, that must have been the first time she had ever seen Tony Stark failing to deliver a readymade quip. Alas, her amusement was short-lived; it was her department that had delivered what was supposed to be an in-depth psychological evaluation on anyone in Gotham that had the resources and the drive to fund the Batman. Director Fury read aloud a few choice paragraphs from Bruce Wayne’s file, making sure to repeat the words _vain, egocentric, apathetic, politically and socially unaware_ , and _billionaire playboy_. Just for emphasis. 

And then Jane and Darcy, who had been assisting them in decoding the computer network found in the Batcave - as they had all ended up calling it - found traces of what, upon analysis, could only be the Clean Slate programme. Yes, that damned piece of software Nick Fury had been so determined to destroy a few years ago; the very same one he had only given up chasing when it became obvious that Wayne Enterprises’ purpose in acquiring it was burying it once and for all.

They all looked at each other, and none of them - not even Natasha, who had lived through Budapest; not even Tony, who never did learn when to shut up; not even Thor, who was, technically, a god and not _supposed_ to be intimidated by mere humans - none of them dared speak.

And then Nick Fury spoke. 

“Find me that son of a bitch. Now.”

***

“Are you going to go out wearing that?”

Bruce Wayne looked down, just to make sure there were no oddly shaped stains on his clothes. They were clean, they looked decent, although they might have smelled a bit. Perhaps he should have bought a new suitcase, he mused. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Not your clothes, your face.”

A raised eyebrow was the only answer Selina was going to get, at least until she started making sense, but Bruce knew she would get to the point - sooner or later. It all depended on how bored she was. 

The answer came faster than he expected, in the shape of a newspaper, flying in his direction. He caught it without thinking: there were two things he did with objects thrown in his direction, and he wasn’t going to duck from a newspaper. 

“Which section?” he asked as he unfolded the paper, then immediately realised the answer - the front page. His picture, a picture of Wayne Manor in ruins, and - _ah_. 

“Nice picture of you,” Selina said in a dry voice, then went to sit on the bed. “You looked better without all those scars. Was that a _pool party_?” If the scorn in her voice could burn, he would have been on fire.

Bruce took a look out the window. Outside, millions of people walked up and down the street - some rushing to work, some going back home, or to visit neighbours or friends, or maybe they were like the two of them, a couple of unnamed, unknown tourists, invisible in the crowd. He smiled and shook his head, then threw himself on the bed next to Selina, tossing the newspaper away. He didn’t need to read how he was the Batman. He’d known it for a while. “So, looks like I’m staying in tonight.”

“My own little prisoner.”

“I get very cranky when I’m cooped up, I should warn you.”

“You were cooped up for eight years, I think?”

“That was in a _very_ big house.”

“Oh, I think I could find you _some_ entertainment.”

“Or you could go out there and buy me a baseball cap.”

“Or a ski mask,” she answered as she bent forward and traced a line on his face with her finger. “I could sew pointy little ears on top, too.”

“Sounds tacky.”

“Oh, please, more tacky than wearing a cape and a cowl?”

“At least the ears came built in with the cowl,” he said and leaned on one elbow, passing the other through her hair. “With my luck, you’d use a white thread or something.”

“Is this going to be a problem for us?”

He kissed her instead of answering. It was a much simpler answer, and she hated when he avoided the question like that, which only made it more appealing.

***

When the police brought him in, he was in handcuffs. He was wearing a sharp suit, obviously he’d been picked up in the middle of some official function, because whatever else, Natasha had a hard time believing he’d wear a bow-tie to work.

But it wasn’t the bow-tie that had really caught her attention; no, it was the absolutely relaxed manner in which Lucius Fox walked - sauntered, even - into Nick Fury’s office. Most people would have been at least a little bit intimidated - if not with being arrested, then with the office, and if not the office, then with Fury himself. Fury wasn’t smiling; he was glaring. 

Fox, however, threw himself comfortably onto the chair. He then opened his mouth, and the first thing he said was as unexpected as his manner. “How can I help you, Director?” he asked pleasantly, rather than demand to know where he was, why he had been arrested, or who they were. 

Natasha smiled. He already knew all those things. Had he been a few years younger, she would have started suspecting he was the Batman himself, not Wayne.

Had he been a few years younger, Director Fury would have probably tried to recruit him to S.H.I.E.L.D. She was somewhat surprised he wasn’t trying anyway.

Instead, he just glared for a moment longer at Fox’s completely relaxed - even somewhat smug - expression, then sat down in front of his desk. “Something to drink?”

“Why, yes. Cranberry juice, if you have any. I never used to like it much, but I acquired a taste in recent years.”

It took another minute or so before Fox had his drink, and all the while, the two continued staring at each other. But after the first sip, Fox put down his glass and cleared his throat. “I believe you wanted me here for a reason, Director?”

“You know, supplying military equipment to masked vigilantes _is_ actually a crime, Mr Fox.”

Fox just laughed. “I did not supply anything to anyone, Director. Some of it might have been military equipment, but none of it was _owned_ by the military. It was owned by Wayne Enterprises. Which, in turn, is owned - ”

“ _Was_ owned - ”

Fox nodded in acknowledgment. “ _Was_ owned, at the time, by Bruce Wayne. If he wanted grapple guns for, oh, I don’t know, spelunking - ”

“Spelunking?”

“Yeah, you know, cave diving?”

Natasha never thought she’d come to think of that awful training week in Minsk in fondness, but that training was the only thing that kept her from snorting out loud, so she was grateful. Next to her, Clint couldn’t help but laugh, and Fury glared at him for just a moment before returning his attention to Fox.

“I know what spelunking _is_ , Mr Fox. I just don’t believe you when you say you thought this was what he was doing - especially after that tank of yours was all over the news.”

Fox’s smile widened. “How long did it take you to recognise the Tumbler? Last week, wasn’t it?” He laughed in earnest now. “I’m sorry, Director. But you have to admit that from my point of view, it’s all pretty funny.”

“You might find it less funny if you find yourself in prison over this, Mr Fox. These may have been Mr Wayne’s toys, but he was still using them illegally.”

“But I’m not going to end up in prison, am I?” Fox asked, then picked up his glass again and stared at it for a moment. “Director, let me ask you this. You’re sitting here, accusing me of being the man who had equipped the _Batman_ for years. Now, either you’re underestimating my intelligence and think I don’t have a way out of this, or you’re underestimating my client’s intelligence and think he is incapable of recognising a trap.” He put down his glass, then looked directly at Fury. The smile was gone from his face. “As far as the world is concerned, Director, Bruce Wayne is dead. Let him stay that way. For everyone’s sake. Especially his own.”

Fury hesitated for just a moment, then nodded at Natasha. She jumped from her seat and opened the cuffs on Fox’s hands.

“Why, thank you,” he said with another one of his smiles, got up and started walking towards the exit. He paused at the door. “And no,” he answered the unasked question. “I really don’t know where he is. But if I were you, I’d stop chasing ghosts and start looking into a businessman called Fenrir Lokason.”

***

“You could say we haven’t treated you the best way. You understand, of course, that S.H.I.E.L.D has been looking for you for quite some time.”

Silence.

“I mean, it’s not that Director Fury _objects_ to masked vigilantes, per sé, it’s just that... these things can turn out to be a bit unpredictable. We weren’t trying to lock you up - you can ask any of them, Banner, Stark, Rogers. We’re operating pretty much on a live and let live basis. We just wanted to have a couple of words.”

Silence

“And breaking into Stark Industries - that was a stupid move. You’re not a stupid man, Wayne. But you’re making mistakes.”

Silence.

“Or maybe not? Maybe you wanted to get caught?”

Silence. 

“Look, I know how it feels. Aliens, and people with superpowers, and all that mad stuff. I was like that too.” Natasha looks at the man behind the bars. He still has that small, superior smile on his face, his eyes half closed lazily, and if not for the only thing she knows for sure about this man - _do not underestimate Bruce Wayne_ \- she would have thought he’s not even listening. As it is, she swallows her pride and her annoyance, because this is what she was trained to do, and looks at him with absolute sincerity. The best lie is the truth, this had also been in her training. “And sometimes, you know, I still don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m just a person. The little Russian girl who found herself in with the spies, and all of a sudden it’s aliens and superpowers and... I’m just a regular human being, you know? Just like you.”

“You, uh, have some green blood on your forehead,” he says at last, his eyes still closed.

Oh, shit.

“It’s not mine,” she says, slightly too fast. His smile broadens, and finally he opens his eyes and looks directly at her.

“I know, Natasha” he says. “But you’re out there, fighting - monsters? Aliens?” he shrugs. “That is not something I know how to do.”

“And not something you care about? So you’re just going to let the world burn?”

He shifts uneasily, but doesn’t say anything. His eyes are closed again, but he’s no longer smiling. Maybe she is getting somewhere, after all, but it’d be a lot easier if he’d just talk, damn it. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of annoying when other people employ your own techniques against you, isn’t it,” he muses, and now he’s smiling again.

***

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Selina gave the man her most charming smile - which would be needed, considering his expression. He was definitely one of the people who considered being bumped into a personal affront.

But no, it was only a moment before the angry expression turned into a smile - a false one, not as good as Selina’s. She gave it five, six at the most. “Of course, of course, no need to apologise,” he muttered. And then proceeded to check her out. Which meant...

“Please allow me to make it up to you,” she said.

On their way to the elevators, she spotted Bruce, in a baseball cap and behind a newspaper. She could just see his eyes, following her, before he disappeared into the corridor she had just come through.

The first time she had noticed Fenrir Lokason, he was just a mark. Bruce had taken a strict ‘only the rich and corrupt’ stand, and Lokason seemed to answer both criteria perfectly. She had developed quite a knack for sniffing them out over the years. So for three whole days, he was her mark, and then she broke into his apartment and everything changed.

Lokason didn’t live the way she had expected him to live; in fact, he didn’t live the way she had expected anyone to live. His apartment was completely empty. No safes with pearl necklaces, no precious paintings on the wall, not even a Persian rug. This was disappointing. The lack of chairs, beds, or a fridge was, however, downright puzzling. The place was a cover, but she had watched him going in and out and appearing to _live_ there for three whole days. 

“Not just rich and corrupt, then,” was Bruce’s conclusion, “but also hiding something. Something big.”

“I knew you’d want to take a look,” she answered and smiled, and he just shook his head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. 

Three hours of smarmy, brainless chatter later, she got away with Lokason’s wallet - four hundred dollars, at least it wasn’t a _complete_ waste of time - and whatever was left of her braincells. Bruce was already back in the hotel room, staring at the laptop and wearing that unhappy frown that had often accompanied staring at the laptop. The braces were already off, and he put his leg up in an odd angle, which told her all she needed to know about his ability to concentrate at the moment. 

“Care for a break? Lunch is on me. Well - on Fenrir Lokason.”

He smiled, but when he answered, his voice was all business. “The place is definitely a front. There’s some really odd technology over there - nothing like I’ve ever seen before. I’m trying to break into the Ministry of Defence to see if they have any records - ”

“But ever since the government took the computers in Wayne Manor offline, it’s been harder, yeah, I know.”

“Yeah, and they’ve been watching the Wayne Enterprises computers since before they arrested Lucius, so I don’t want to go through there, either.”

“They won’t be able to trace it back to you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But they would be able to put it on him. I’d rather not do it unless I have no choice.”

She rolled her eyes for a moment - Bruce himself had admitted more than once that Lucius Fox was more than capable of taking care of himself - but it didn’t seem as if he even noticed. 

“What was the name of that government agency that arrested Lucius?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D,” she answered automatically. He knew it as well as she did - of course he did, they had obsessed about S.H.I.E.L.D enough last year, and then again when Lucius was arrested. “They’re the ones responsible for the - ”

“Avengers, yeah. Stark was working with them, wasn’t he?”

 _Now_ he caught her interest. She’d been trying to convince him to check up Stark for ages, but all he did was tell her that it was too dangerous and try to diagnose her ‘pathological thrill-seeking irresponsible behaviour’, although that bit usually ended when she pointed out only one of them used to dress up as a bat. 

“Yeah. The ‘Iron Man’,” she sat down on the chair next to him. He was deep within Stark Industries systems. “I thought we didn’t want to draw Stark’s attention.”

“Looks like we don’t have a choice.” He showed her the screen, with schematics for - something or other. 

“That was in Lokason’s apartment?”

“Not exactly, but something similar. And it looks like some sort of teleport. And look at this-”

More computer logs. She sighed. “Bruce, I don’t have the patience to start reading these and you know I don’t - ”

“They’ve been checking up Lokason as well. They’ve been hacking into his computers. Let me see if I can figure out what they were looking for...” And he was lost in a world of conspiracies and computer logs and bad guys. Selina sighed and stood up. 

She caught her reflection in the mirror - she was still wearing Martha Wayne’s pearls. She had put them on to impress Lokason, but now they served as a reminder. They didn’t _actually_ have to do this. “Now who’s the thrill-seeker?” she muttered, but it didn’t look as if Bruce had even heard her.

“Why don’t we leave this to Fury?” she asked, this time louder.

“Why don’t we - what?” It took a while to register, but once Bruce realised what she was asking, his eyes finally left the screen and fixed on her. “Fury?”

“Yeah, if Stark is already on the case, he’s probably working with S.H.I.E.L.D. Why don’t we just leave it to them to deal with Lokason?”

“They’ll fumble it up. Remember last year? They destroyed half of Manhattan.”

“How can I forget.” Bruce and Selina had got out of the train at Grand Central, their first day in New York, and had promptly proceeded to do their best to not get killed by aliens. “That was different, though, they’re not completely incompetent. And besides...”

“And besides?”

“This is New York. Not Gotham.” This isn’t your responsibility. But she already knew she had lost the argument, before it had even begun. She recognised the look in his eyes. 

How she hated that look. Whenever she saw it, she was reminded of the time she had first seen it, a moment before the gate had closed behind him, the bat in the trap. And then later, right before he had said goodbye and she thought she would never see him again. It held all the wrong memories, and whenever she saw it, she wanted to run away, run away and never come back, because whenever she saw it she had the feeling she would never see _him_ again, and if she was going to lose him, she’d rather walk away first.

But she never did. She was stupid that way. 

She took off the pearls, crouched and put them safely in their box, inside the wardrobe, and stayed there, for just a moment longer. Behind her, she could hear Bruce’s voice. “You said something about lunch?” he asked, and she smiled despite herself. When she turned around, there was nothing out of the ordinary in her expression.

***

“I’ve just recorded the third security breach into our systems within the last five hours.”

Tony blinked. JARVIS, however, maintained his innocent silence.

“Excuse me? ‘Recorded’? Whatever happened to ‘stopped’?”

“I was unable to stop the intruder.”

“Can you tell me at least who it was?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Do we know at least which _files_ they’re looking at? Or are all my secrets out there in the open for everyone to grab?”

“They are using quite sophisticated methods,” JARVIS berated him, for lack of a better word. Tony held his ground and stared at the screen stubbornly. “But I can tell they have accessed our files on Fenrir.”

“So someone just waltzes in, grabs our data on the most sensitive project Nick Fury handed me in, what, quite some time now, and waltzes out and we can do nothing about it?”

“Frustrating, huh,” someone said behind him - Bruce Banner. 

“I thought you were working on that thing with that other thing.”

“The breach was registered at S.H.I.E.L.D, as well.”

“So Fury sent you to babysit me?”

“More like ask you what the hell is going on.”

“But very calmly.”

Bruce smiled. “Oh, yeah. Very calmly. So what the hell is going on?”

Tony glared at JARVIS, but the AI seemed to have decided that he could handle this one on his own. So much for technology. If he could, he would have kicked JARVIS, but all he had was his own computer terminal and that would just mean injuring his toe. He didn’t want to repeat that experience.

“Apparently, we don’t know either. Someone’s interested in Fenrir.”

“Could it be - ”

“I don’t think it’s Loki. Not his style. He’s more the death and destruction and enslavement sort of guy. Computer hacking probably just bores him.”

Bruce’s smile was slightly too frozen. “I was going to suggest Lucius Fox.”

Tony considered the suggestion. “Fox has all the resources of Wayne Enterprises. He doesn’t need to point us in the right direction just to steal all our data. Besides,” he pointed out, “he could have asked nicely. I like playing with kids like him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know that.”

“If he knows enough to tell us about Fenrir, he knows that.”

And then - Tony smiled. Of course. But wasn’t it _too_ simple? He went back to the computer and started programming his own tracking software, because what you couldn’t do from one direction, you could definitely do from the other, and if their hacker was who he thought he was, Tony should be able to find _something_. 

“What?” Bruce asked, a million miles away.

“You were right.”

“I was _right_? It’s Fox?”

“No, no, of course not, not right about that, that’s completely ridiculous but that’s the point.”

“Okay, now you lost me.”

“Lucius Fox has all of the resources of Wayne Enterprises.”

Bruce spoke a moment later, at the exact moment that Tony sent his little software into the internet. “But Bruce Wayne doesn’t, not anymore, not since we found the network in Wayne Manor and took it down.”

“Bingo.”

It didn’t trace the source, of course - for that, Tony would need to _know_ where Wayne was. All in all, rather useless. But it did offer just the right amount of fingerprints to make Tony absolutely certain - whoever hacked into his systems was using some of the old Wayne Enterprises routines to do so. “Voilà”

“And how does that help us?”

“Well, it looks like he couldn’t find what he really wanted - I’m not _that_ bad with security,” he felt the need to add, seeing as this was a rather embarrassing breach of his files.

“He’ll need to come here.”

“He’ll need to come here.”

“You think he’ll drop this?”

“Would you?”

***

“I wondered when they’ll send you to talk to me.”

Outside, the attack has already died down. There are no more explosions, no more aliens, although the number of dead could be in the thousands. Bruce has the usual uncomfortable feeling - he wonders how many of these were caused by _the other guy_. 

He doesn’t say any of that, of course. All he says is, “I was busy.” 

“You mean, the other guy was busy.”

Bruce doesn’t bother asking how Wayne knows his own little euphemism. “Yeah,” he says instead. “I guess I got to sit this one out.”

He’s surprised - Wayne’s laughter sounds genuine. He sounds almost delighted at the response. 

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Bruce points out.

“Sorry, not your fault. Just... never mind.”

Wayne studies him with interest, his eyes wide open and follow Bruce with every move he makes towards the cell. Bruce walks closer still. He’s almost at the cell’s barred door when Wayne gets up and walks towards him. Bruce stops dead, and for almost a minute, they’re staring at each other in silence.

It’s Bruce who breaks the silence first. “I keep thinking it’s a wonder, that I’m not there with you,” he confesses. “I mean, how can they know what I’m capable of, what I _am_ , and still allow me out there.”

“Allow?”

“You know what I mean.”

Wayne looks around at the cell. “I guess I do.”

“And then I look at you...”

“I guess there are things they consider more dangerous than a green giant trampling around Manhattan.” There’s no nastiness in Wayne’s voice, no sharpness, even though the words could sting; it’s just a sign, a sign that as far as he’s concerned, that line of conversation is over. Bruce nods. He’s not Natasha or Barton. He doesn’t work for Fury - well, not _exactly_. 

“They didn’t send me here,” he tells the truth. “I came on my own.” Wayne says nothing. “And anyway, the attack is over. We won.”

“And you didn’t need me to do it.”

“But we could have used your help,” Bruce points out. Wayne ignores him. “What happened to your partner, anyway? I thought you were working with someone.”

“She left.” It’s not just finality in his voice this time. For the first time since he got there, Wayne doesn’t alternate between apathetic and amused. He sounds in pain. Why is Bruce the one who’s allowed to see it, he doesn’t know. 

“Before we caught you?” he asks, and Wayne nods. “That was hours before the attack. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I know she is,” Wayne answers quietly. “She’s adaptable.” He smiles, as if telling a joke, but if it’s a joke, it’s a private one - Bruce can’t figure it out.

“Why did she leave?”

Wayne doesn’t answer; instead, he sits back on his bench and stares at Bruce, once again betraying nothing. This interview is over.

***

A cold breeze; an odd, muffled noise. Selina shivered, then opened her eyes. The room was entirely dark, it was the middle of the night, but next to her, the bed was empty. She sat up.

The doors to the balcony were open. She could see a dark shape, standing outside. Drinking in the night. He stood there, completely still, never moving; he never moved, not until he _did_ , and then good luck trying to find him. She wondered whether it was speed, or just his ability to disappear into the darkness. Perhaps both. Perhaps something else entirely. She understood speed; she knew agility. She never managed to disappear like that. 

She blinked; the door was closed again, and he was inside, looking at her. 

“You should go back to sleep,” he said softly. She just stared at him harder, unwilling to be distracted. He was leaning on the balcony door, crossing his arms; she was still sitting on the bed, pursing her lips. They stared at each other like that for quite a while.

Bruce gave in first. Slowly, the ice in his features melted, the tension left his arms, and he walked back to the bed. His hand was now going through her hair, and his lips close to hers, but before he had the chance to kiss her, she asked him softly, almost purring. “How far is it from here?”

“About thirty blocks.”

“How fast can you get there?”

“Ten minutes, give or take, depends on whether I’d have to start making detours.”

“And how fast do you think you will need to run from them? How far?”

His lips stopped an inch from her. Another second, and he sat up again, the stubbornness back in his eyes and face.”Are you calling me irresponsible?” he asked with a chuckle, but she could hear the annoyance underneath it.

“This is New York, not - ”

“Not Gotham, yes, but you saw it just as well as I did, Lokason’s plans include Gotham, once he’s finished in New York he’s going there, and the rate these incompetent idiots at S.H.I.E.L.D are going, they will never get to him in time.”

She shook her head. “Maybe you should join them,” she said, putting as much contempt into her voice as she could muster, “become the brains of their organisation.”

“Maybe I should,” he said and there was nothing but ice in his voice.

He stared at her; she stared at him. She was the first to give in this time. “You can’t turn into a huge green destruction machine,” she said, and he smiled despite himself. “You haven’t taken any superpower serum. And you’re not a demi-god.”

“And I don’t even have a suit anymore. I know. Although,” he was smiling now, a real, warm smile, “my suit could never fly anyway.”

“And your back still hurts, every few weeks.”

“We’ll pick a day when it’s not hurting.”

“Just you and me, then, huh?”

“That’s the best way.”

She was going to ask him what would he do if she said no, if she said she didn’t want any part in it, but he was already kissing her and at that moment, that was more important. But a couple of hours later, when he was deep in sleep and she still couldn’t convince herself to close her eyes, she got up. She scribbled her note, she picked up the suitcase, she took the pearls, and she didn’t look back as she walked out the door.

***

The silent alarm went off at four a.m. Tony, Natasha and Bruce were wide awake.

Natasha pointed out at the schematics on the display. The man managed to _enter_ through the forty-fifth floor. “Not bad, not bad,” Tony had to admit. 

“I think you need new security arrangements,” Natasha said drily. 

“If my security problems are limited to people who can get in through the forty-fifth floor, I think I’m covered. How many people are going to bother doing that?”

“People who like spelunking?” Bruce mused. 

“You know, more people should take up spelunking. Maybe I should announce a contest. Anyone who manages to get in through the fortieth floor or above gets to stay inside.”

Their voices were echoing through the corridor, but Tony didn’t much care. The display showed Wayne, one floor up, and in a room that was not only sound-proofed to the outside world, but also sound-proofed from the outside world. He’d need to be a telepath to know they were coming, and whatever else the man was, he wasn’t a telepath.

Tony was _almost_ sure of that.

And then they were there. Bruce hung behind, blocking the exit, just in case. Natasha slinked away to - do whatever it was she was going, probably get in through the window or something. Tony, of course, was going for the grand entrance, because - well, because there was no reason _not_ to.

“You know,” he said as he opened the door, “I always wondered - why bats?”

There was no reply. The room was empty. 

“Well, that’s rude.”

The silence engulfed him. He reached for his radio.

“Yeah, Natasha? We may just have a problem.”

“I’ve noticed!”

Wayne had managed to slip through Bruce without him ever realising it; he was slowed down by Natasha at the stairs, but by the time Tony managed to get to her, he was already gone. Enough was enough, and he couldn’t allow him to get away - sensitive data or no sensitive data, this was now a question of _pride_. Getting the suit took five seconds longer than he would have liked, but even JARVIS wasn’t telepathic (yet; he was definitely going to ask Fury to analyse Wayne’s brain or something), and bat or no bat, there was a limit to how fast one man could go. 

In the end he got to him, just a moment too late. Not because Wayne had escaped, but because Fury was apparently waiting downstairs, with one of those great big stun guns they got from - funny, Tony realised, he never asked. Wayne’s unconscious body was lying on the ground in front of Fury.

“Nice.”

“I thought you might need the help,” Fury answered.

“Can I get one of these?”

“No.”

“No, really, I could integrate the design with the suit, and prove to the world how friendly and completely not deadly I am.”

Nick Fury just glared at him. “Just get him back to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“You are no fun at all.”

“Good!”

***

The cell’s doors opened. Nick Fury walked inside.

Bruce Wayne looked at him - with suspicion, for sure, but also curiosity. He didn’t seem surprised when the door wasn’t locked behind Fury.

“Why you?” he asked at last. Fury rearranged his face into polite - if obviously fake - confusion. “That’s what I don’t get. The rest of them, sure, but you, you’re almost normal - well, give or take a thing or two.”

“You could say I’m the man in between. Half like these guys, so I understand how they’re thinking, what they want. And half like normal people, enough not to lose sight of what’s really important.”

“And what’s that? What’s really important?”

Instead of answering, Nick sat down next to Bruce. “I don’t think we’re so different, you and me, Mr Wayne.”

“If you know me so well...”

“I thought it’d be worth a shot. You know, keep you here, let you think it over. We _could_ use someone like you.”

“This whole superheroes business, that’s not for me.”

“Then give it up. Like I said. You’re like me. You haven’t completely lost sight of what’s really important, not yet.” With that, Nick got up. “The thing is, I’m not in the business of letting unhinged masked vigilantes run around unchecked.”

“So in other words, stay out of your radar.”

“And if the world is under attack again...”

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” 

The new voice achieved the result none of Nick’s tactics could. Bruce stood up, betraying surprise for the first time since he woke up in the cell. Nick smiled. “Good day, Mr Wayne, Ms Kyle.”

She didn’t leave the shadows, not until Bruce walked out through the cell’s open door. Only then did she step forward and reveal herself. It took him a moment before he managed to smile, but when he did, he wasn’t holding anything back.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I’m stupid that way,” she shrugged. “Can’t seem to get away.”

“I like that about you.”

“I don’t. You’re a bad influence on me.”

“ _Good_.” He took another step towards her. “So what are you doing here, of all places?”

“Well, after I helped them catch Fenrir - who’s an alien, by the way, in case you were wondering - I thought I might as well see how you were doing.”

“Since when you are in the alien-catching business?” The hand on her shoulder wasn’t a gesture of intimacy, it was there because he needed to stabilise his leg, but she didn’t mind, she still brushed it with her own hand, and enjoyed the the way his face lit up, all the way to his eyes.

“I’m not,” she said. “But you’re pretty helpless without me.”

“You did save my life once - ”

“Or twice,” she pointed out, and he agreed, “Or twice.”

“I didn’t want to see your photograph in the paper again.”

“They might have used a better one this time, though.” His hand pressed on her shoulder, and this time it wasn’t from lack of balance. 

She gently removed his hand from her shoulder and took it in her own. “Next time - ”

“There won’t be a next time,” he said, perhaps slightly too hastily. “I can’t do this without you. I used to do this alone. Alone wasn’t a problem. I thought I still could. I was wrong.”

She nodded. “ _Next time_ , we follow my plan,” she said.

He didn’t need even a second to think it over. “Yeah,” he said, “I can live with that.”


End file.
